Le Havre

These days it seems that French films predominantly fit into one of two categories: Smug, over long and preachy, such as Rust and Bone or Little White Lies. Or they produce deeply involving but simplistic stories containing the most genuine heartfelt emotion such as Amour (in French, therefore French) or The Kid with a Bike. I am happy to say that Le Havre falls in the latter group. In fact the story here is one of pure simplicity and the tone of the film contains nothing but genuine optimism towards the theme of human compassion. That is it, this film has no ulterior motive or no gimmicks, and it is a very simply and extremely involving story based around that one simple theme. However, this film is not just a tribute to human compassion, but contained within it are tributes to the history of cinema that are quite simply a joy to experience. When I say that, the use of music as well the way certain scenes are lit pay a respectful tribute to films of the 40s and 50s throughout the narrative.

This is not to say that this film is not without its realism, Marx and his neighbours all live a humble life bordering on poverty. The plight of Idrissa is unenviable and there is an honest depiction of a refugee camp just outside Calais. However, the theme of Le Havre is not that life is simply good, that would be naive. It is how these characters deal with life and the situations that it presents. Of course it would be so easy to fall into to the trap of patronising and borderline preachy cliché here, but this never happens due to the genuine feeling of honesty depicted throughout the narrative. Every character is presented very honestly with all their flaws quite clear to see, but it is their ability for natural compassion that drives the narrative forward. By the time Le Havre reaches its very satisfying conclusion where there are no loose ends, it is difficult not to feel that not only have you been entertained, but also enlightened.

Protagonist is Marcel Marx, A Shoeshiner, who makes a peaceful living with his wife Arletty and a dog Laika in city of Le Havre. He incidentally meets an African boy, Idrissa, who is being sought by French authorities as illegal immigrant. Marcel opens his doors to the boy and helps him make his way to join his mother across the water in London.

Despite the complication of Arletty's terminal illness, about which Marcel is not aware, the snooping of grim-faced inspector Monet, and the machinations of the neighborhood snitch, with the help of neighbors and friends that Marcel was deeply in debt to forgive everything for Idrissa, Marcel tries to help the boy.

Kudos to Aki Kaurismäki, the director of Le Havre, for his directorial talent he has exhibited in this movie. No loose ends, characterization and usage of every character is excellent and has kept it very simple by all means.

Once in while you get to watch such an optimistic film that shows love, respect and tolerance for one another in a very simple and practical manner.

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This was one of the most visually stunning films I've ever seen. You could pause very nearly every shot and use it as screensaver or make a large print of it; that's how beautiful and well thought out they are.

Aki Kaurismäki evokes a sense of times past. He embraces the 'unreality' of his film, and the genre as a whole, and plays it up with great wit and art. As mentioned by previous reviews, he combines tragedy and comedy seamlessly into an extremely enjoyable and engaging film that doesn't try to pass itself off as life and as such engages on much deeper levels than its straightforward message or story would perhaps imply.

There are so many small details and well-thought out quirks here that keep your attention that it easily accommodates for my internet fried attention span, even while the director chooses not to openly deal with the electronic world. It's a decision indicative of the thoughtful and unique approach to the film; it aids both the storyline and the viewer's experience immensely. I was grateful and relieved to be taken away into a simpler and more honest world; both in the film's outward image, and within the story's universe. Its worth emphasising; this film doesn't try to masquerade as real life and as such allows for a much purer enjoyment. You don't have to worry about checking your expectations once the end credits roll.

Being beautifully shot may not have kept my attention for an hour and half, but the storyline and Kaurismäki's wit certainly did.

This is a sweet, lightly intoxicating thing like a small glass of calvados under the wisteria in the evening. Kaurismaki has aged and his outcast and misfit characters aged with him, the quirks mellowed, the ferocious smoking toned down, the lines in the sometimes quietly astonished stone faces deeper, wearier, but imbued with almost ascetic serenity.

Some viewers have complained, why trivialize an actual problem in the manner of a fairy tale? A fair complaint for a problem perhaps more pressing than ever, especially in France and especially these days, with Sarkozi's desperate attempt to shore up votes for what looks like near-certain defeat in the upcoming elections by reverting to reactionary rhetorics from the far-right.

No, I believe the fairy-tale is the point. The idyllic neighborhood. The mannered caricatures of French people, with even the poorest having the time and fine sense of taste to leisurely enjoy their freshly baked baguette or glass of wine. The miraculous turn of events, explicitly acknowledged in the finale where kindness of this world is so overwhelming it even cures sickness. How could anyone miss this?

But a certain emptiness has always been of the essence for Kaurismaki, deliberate, designed emptiness.

The world is always flat to that effect, two-dimensional. The characters lack any conventional depth to speak of and do not really grow or learn lessons. By contrast, the plots of the films often exhibit a life of spontaneous motion, the objectives intentionally abstract, journeys across town, to America, in search of coffee and cigarettes. Motion for the sheer musical capacity of life to fill the quiet, the room in the heart to do so.

So it is always a variation of transient worlds centered in the stillness of the present moment that Kaurismaki has studied and consistently delivered. What is so remarkable is that he achieves this without any layering whatsoever, as a single flow.

This is his most Japanese film to date, even more concentrated flow than usual. Which is to say artificial nature that does not attempt to pass for the real thing but instead is empty space cultivated for beauty, a road-map for inner heart.

(I saw this together with the recent viral video KONY2012 and the contrast was amazing: that one, shameless artifice passing as nature, as truth, the real thing, contriving to motivate awareness several years after the fact and by selling merchandise, but was in truth both misinformed and morally dubious and even perhaps unwittingly manipulated agitprop in the service of shady foreign policy, while this one is simple, crisp, gracefully moral work, that does create awareness without any agendas.)

So it is very much the point that no one in the film is shown to wallow in misery, and most of the characters we meet would have plenty of reason to do so. Instead they enjoy this drink or meal together, whatever is at hand. And act with no complaint in the present moment to do what needs to be done. There is no meddlesome thought or proud ego to cloud the mind from the day's work, be it polishing shoes or helping out an immigrant kid.

This is the beauty of the thing: an idyll embedded with the purity of soul that gives rise to it and clear images only possible because of this cloudless eye.

The parting image is of a blossomed cherry tree gently rocking in the breeze, among the most traditionally Japanese images.

It encapsulates motion in stillness. The song of Zen.

Like every fairy-tale, this film by Aki Kaurismaki is unbelievable, but this apparent fake doesn't hide a sad reality behind the good intentions of the simple people that help the illegal immigrant child to arrive finally to London, wherein we couldn't predict what kind of life waits for him. A slow rhythm, (some scenes seem like stills), and a brilliant and strong color that contribute to the atmosphere of unreality, the frustration to the normal expectations of the viewers that are carried to imagine the worst, and receive on the contrary the sudden impact of the best, don't prevent to bring to the conscience the images of the cruel world that surrounds the miracle of solidarity that saves, perhaps momentarily, just one of the hundred persecuted. The bad and the good boys are generally discovered by the camera, which leaves, significantly, in off the figure of the pitiless chief of policy, and introduces in darkness the figure of the denouncer. Le Havre is an optimist movie with a very dubious happy end.